


Hanukkah with The Hellblazer

by CJRothWritten



Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brooding, But even he loves Jewish food, Cigarettes, Gen, Hanukkah, John Constantine is emo as hell, Magic, Mentions of Cancer, POV John Constantine, Self-Pity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17031387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJRothWritten/pseuds/CJRothWritten
Summary: Guess who's coming over for Hanukkah dinner (and demon expulsion)!That's right- everyone's favourite Hellblazer: John Constantine!





	Hanukkah with The Hellblazer

**Author's Note:**

> A/N This is just a one-off that could take place anytime after the Dangerous Habits arc.

I don’t usually get cases like these during the holidays. Even the spirits, demons, and devils of the world tend to find a little time off around the festive seasons. Yet I’m in a cloud of Febreze, stuck in the back of a cab, looking at the rainbow of neon lights distorted by snow streaks on the window. It’s been snowing pretty heavily these last few weeks, the last hurrah of a middling winter.

I’ve been at this game for a while now, but word’s gotten around about me, and my business. For the uninitiated, my name is John Constantine, and on good nights I’m a con artist. On nights like these, however, I’m an occult detective. If things seem a little more sideways about any given situation, I’m the guy they call. However, no matter what my role, I bloody hate the over-clean smell of the new millennium. 

I grab my smokes from inside my overcoat, snatching a cigarette with my teeth. As I strike a match, the cabbie looks in his rear-view at me. “Sorry guy, can’t have you smoking in here, I just cleaned the thing.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m smoking in the first place? Don’t worry pal, I’ll tip well.”

His eyes widen and he starts shaking his head. “Nah man, can’t have it, either you toss it, or I toss you.”

“I’d love to see you try.” I put out the match, he resumes his driving.

I like New York. There’s a salt to the people here, like they are in Liverpool, everyone’s secret is the secret. Anyone stepping out of the usual line is just trying to break in, to know what you know. 

I figure it’s only a few blocks, and I’d rather put up with the aerosol smell than walking in the snow. Hated that though, hated that you couldn’t smoke where you like anymore. Grant you, I was the poster boy for what cigarettes can do to a person, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to enjoy ‘em when I like.

The way the lady told me on the phone, she’d just lit a candle in her place, and some little creature erupted from the flame. My best guess is a fire elemental, though I won’t know more until I get there, she only gave me those details and the address before the little demon apparently started bugging her son. I really didn’t like dealing with kids. They just cry and shout and whine until you make the big bad go away. I haven’t got the patience. 

We pull up to classic brownstone, nice joint, I can probably get a few dollars more than my usual for this one. The rent was coming and the holidays were a tough time for the business, people more concerned with their bullshit Christmas shopping rather than getting rid of their bullshit demons. The cabbie tells me the rate, and I give him exactly what he tells me.

“Tip?” He says, looking in the mirror again.

“Aye, here you go: Let a man smoke in the back of your cab when it reeks of chemicals.”

Under his breath he mutters “Asshole.” Then takes off before I can even close the door.

Would rather smell brimstone than that shite. The snow crunches, and I almost slip as I walk up the steps. I look for the name, Blum, on the buzzer. Before I press it, I snatch out a cigarette, and decide to have a smoke before I get to work. It puts me at ease, one of the few things I unabashedly enjoy. Everyone always tells you; it’ll give you cancer. Been there, done that.

The cigarette finishes faster than I’d have preferred. I toss the butt, and turn to press the buzzer key, it didn’t take long for it to go off and the door to open. 

Thank God, a lift. It’d seemed like every job I’ve had has been in a place with broken elevators and giant stairs. The best part of the elevator is saving my breath for the occasion. I hopped on, hit 7, and lit up another smoke. Fire elemental doesn’t add up, actually, this whole building would’ve been ash when I got here. Didn’t consider that, curious.

The doors open, and I stomp out my smoke. I look for the number, but see a woman leaning out of her door staring after me. Figure that’ll be the stop. I walk down the hall.  
“Constantine. You’re Aviva Blum?”

“Yes, Viv, now please- hurry.” She was a middle-aged woman, stern jawline, tired eyes. I give my watch a glance, three in the morning. I look at her door, a mezuzah. That explains the candle, she was just celebrating. Wait, actually….

“What night is it?”

“What’s that?”

“Chanukah, right? What night?” Butchering however it’s said.

“Sixth, why? Also, just say Hanukkah.”

Xaphan. That gobshite was bugging Jewish people. 

“It’s a blend, sixth night runically is Kenaz. Torch. My shot in the dark, due to your faith, is Xaphan, a fire breathing hellion. Probably bust in through whatever superstitious hole he could find.” She gave me a blank stare that I could’ve sworn was rehearsed. 

“Just stay in the hall, love.” Brushing her off.

She pleads. “But- my son!”

“I’ve got him, you’ll do better to stay away from this.”

I walk into the apartment and lock the door behind me. Figure Viv didn’t think I’d lock her out. I don’t need her rushing in when the weird noises start. The apartment is nice, I look to the counter and see their menorah knocked over, seven candles, sixth night.

Looking around I see scorch marks everywhere, small ones, on the fridge, the ceiling, the tables, the walls. These look exactly like Xaphan’s work. See, Xaphan is an angry little bugger who thought that burning down heaven was a viable idea. Everyone, Hell, Lucifer himself laughed it off! I couldn’t help but smirk. I wondered if he brought his little bellower too. 

I followed the scorch marks down the hall, looking at the photos that still hung. There was a husband when the boy was young, but as the photos went on he looked a little more sickly. Thinner, paler, balder. I walked until there was just a single photograph of him, younger, prouder, well dressed. Then the photos were just of the mother and the boy. I tentatively reached for the cigarettes in my pocket, but figured it best not to fan any possible flame.

A door was open at the far end of the hall, from it the echoes of fire were flashing out. I walked a little faster and cracked the door open. Inside, the kid was backed into a corner, waving a small baseball bat back and forth, at a little demon feller using a bellower to shoot flames. 

“Xaphan! What’s got you all hot and bothered?” I cheekily threw his way.

He slowly turned to me, a sneer creeping along his ugly little mug. “Constantine,” he growled “always up in my fun.”

“Ah, yeah, fun. Fun like scaring the lad with flames?” I said, clicking my tongue.

He dropped the bellower to his side, leaning on it. “I didn’t light the candle now did I?” 

“Aye, maybe, but I’ve gotta say it’s cheeky of you to crawl through a portal as small as a sixth day candle. Bloody embarrassing I’d say.”

Xaphan wasn’t amused. “What would you have me do? I’m stuck in hell, nothing to do, I get laughed at all day-“

“Aye, ‘as cuz you’re a funny looking little guy.” I say, snickering.

“-LAUGHED AT. I am a figure of Hell. I fell with Lucifer like everyone else!” With that, he pointed his bellower at me. Just what I’d wanted.

 

It doesn’t take much at all to reflect a lesser, and I do mean the less-est of the less-er, demon’s fireball. That’s basic work, and to be honest as soon as I guessed that I was dealing with Xaphan, I was a mite disappointed. It’s just busy work, dealing with the lessers. It was only when he retreated into a basic Hell portal, opened on my command, that I noticed the lad standing there, shaking, hands tight on his bat. 

“Now, listen-“ He swung at me as I reached out to him. Just scared is all, never seen a man reflect magic, or any magic at all. He was young, and his world just grew a whole lot bigger. He looked me in right the eyes with all the threat he could muster, gripping his bat like no one’s business.

“Listen, pal, I get called in when help is needed. A demon like this? Usually people need my help, but you weakened him up so much, eh?” I smiled at him, with as best a grin as I could muster. “You got to him, he doesn’t like people standing up, he likes ‘em falling to the floor. You stood up to him, you spooked him, made him easy. You probably woulda finished the job too, eh?” He lowered the bat, wiping his face, and nodding up at me. “Aye, like I thought. Probably don’t know how to send them back to Hell, though, I’m guessing.” The kid smiled briefly, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t, but he burned my stuff.” He motioned to some drawings on the wall.

“Oh?” I replied, looking at the damage. Jesus, not that I’m any Bissette myself, but the losses weren’t huge. “Well, I mean, he made it better eh? Little texture to the work?” I grabbed a drawing to show him, only for it to crumple as immediately as I grabbed it.

The kid laughed. A step in the right direction. “Right, what’s say we go find your mum, yeah? She’s probably mad I locked her out.”

I walk back down the hallway, the kid following me, wanting to see his mum. I unlock the hall door, and she punches me in the jaw, running behind me to hug her child. You know at any point is someone going to recognize that this place would be ashes without- well that’s not correct. Xaphan’s flames are too pathetic to ignite anything, they just sting a bit. But I mean, I protected countless awful child drawings!

“So,” I say, straightening my freshly punched jaw, “now comes the unpleasant business of payment…”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you need,” she cuts me off, “Sorry about punching you, I assumed you locked me out not to see what may happen. I implore you to stay while we relight the candles. Money, and your awful attitude aside, you deserve a warm meal.”

“I don’t think so, your boy did most of the work, I just finished the job.” I winked at the kid, he smiled up at me. He honestly deserved a little credit for walking away unscathed. Maybe Xaphan’s heart wasn’t in it tonight, but usually you get a degree or two of burn when you deal with him unskilled. 

“ _Atsor_ , please, I implore you, stay for dinner.” She said getting up, preparing another plate at the table, “Besides, we need to relight the candles. The little devil knocked it all over.”

“Alright, alright, but I can’t stay long, love.” Though in my heart of hearts I would love to eat properly for once. Don’t get me wrong, this city has a plethora of takeout, but sometimes that just didn’t cut it, especially during the holiday seasons when I didn’t have any place to be. 

Before we sat and ate, the food sitting on the stove, they got the menorah set up. Six candles, a seventh in the middle. They prayed, and I stood behind them and watched. I can’t remember the last time I had a traditional holiday experience, and though I wasn’t necessarily part of this one, it was nice knowing they weren’t far off from the Holy’s big deal. They finished up, pushing the lit menorah back on it’s aluminum sheet, and invited me to sit.

Not much was said, they were exhausted, and despite all my talking I’m not great with conversation. I kept catching the lad looking up at me, curiosity in his eyes. I forget that some people don’t know what I know about the nature of things. Whenever the kid would look, I’d wink, I didn’t really know what kids got from their interactions. He seemed fine with it though, the magic man’s acknowledgements. 

The food was out of this world, there was a beef brisket which fell apart when you picked it up, tender, juicy, and savory, practically melting in my mouth. Then there was the latkes, potato pancakes that were so warm and crispy outside, moist and delicious on the outside. Another I wasn’t too familiar with was a brown sugar sauce on baby carrots, honestly to die for. Jewish food was truly robust, and I don’t think it’s just me going nuts after a long time of eating terribly. 

I wasn’t particularly good at hiding my enjoyment either, Viv kept looking at me and laughing. 

“What?” I said with my mouth far too full to be clear.

“Nothing, I just saw you as fairly professional when you came here, but now you’re eating like you’ve never eaten! It’s honestly pretty impressive.”

I couldn’t help but laugh “Love, believe me, I’m nowhere near professional, but I feel like I’ve missed out on this kind of food.”

“Glad to hear it, let it wash the taste of cigarettes out of your mouth at least.” She got somber, but then brought back her smile. “Honestly we don’t usually do Hanukkah so devoutly, but we assumed that was your deal, that you only helped the faithful.”

“Honestly, I prefer when it’s casual. Lot less anger.” I shoveled more food down. “And if I could smoke while I ate, I would, mind.” 

“I bet, but it’s not too late to-“

“It’s already been too late, love.” I said, staring up at her.

She looked at me, more pity than anything. I hated that. I don’t like the pity. I don’t like when people treat me like a bloody charity case. I quickly cleared my plate, wiped my mouth, and stood to leave.

“I haven’t paid you yet.” She spoke, still sitting. At this point I just needed to leave. 

“Don’t worry about it, I just need to go, there was another call.” I lied.

She ran up and put the money in my hands before I could go, I took it without a word. The kid looked up at me, no curiosity, just a little fire in the eyes. I winked at him one last time, without a smile. He did the same back to me as I closed the door. Funny kid. 

I took the stairs down, it gave me time to think. Maybe I reacted a little strongly, but I just hated that look. Got it all the damn time back when the cigarettes got to me. Everyone thinking they know best, that their pity and sympathies were going to change a damn thing about it all. I was just tired of it, just wanted to be left to do things my way.

I needed a simpler job. Rid the demon, get the money, leave. No chit-chat, judgements, pity, or coddling. 

I exited the building to empty streets and iron-gray skies. The snow fell slow, coldly dropping on my face, the wind hustling it’s way through the streets. I snagged a cigarette, lit up, and took in the rare quiet of the city. Just another cold, lonely night. I wished the holidays were busier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, polite criticism is always accepted.
> 
> Follow me on twitter @CJRothWritten if you wanna follow my stuff. Thanks again!


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